Sweet Caroline's Keeper

by Beverly Barton

  So why had she ever entertained the notion that she could love a man like Wolfe, a man who made his living protecting people from violence and thereby living violendy himself? He carried a weapon and knew how to use it. She suspected that in his line of work he had shot someone, perhaps even killed someone. Wolfe had chosen his profession as she had chosen hers—and he was as good a bodyguard as she was a photographer. Despite his often gentle manner and the ten­derness with which he touched her, he was a man capable of physical violence.

  "Caroline?" Wolfe said her name softy, against her ear.

  She shuddered. In her peripheral vision she caught a glimpse of him, alarmingly attractive in his black tuxedo. Standing at her side, his hand cupping her elbow, Wolfe sud­denly seemed as threatening as an unknown assailant lying in wait.

  "Caroline, are you all right?"

  "Yes, I'm fine." She breathed deeply, willing herself not to respond to him in a physical way. Don't look at him, she told herself. If she allowed herself to care about this man, then he would be as dangerous to her as a killer. Loving a man like Wolfe would destroy her. "Let's find Oliver and Eileen. I want to thank them for hosting this party to help Fletch raise money for his campaign next year. After doing that, we can leave."

  "You don't want to go through the buffet line?" Wolfe asked.

  "No. I'm afraid I don't have much appetite." When she moved, he moved with her, staying in step as she led him through a throng of chatting people.

  "You're upset about what happened with that idiot drunk, aren't you? He didn't hurt you. I prevented him from—"

  "Yes, I know what you did."

  He slid his hand from her elbow to her waist before she realized what he was doing, his action immediately halting her search for their hosts. "I did my job, dammit." He kept his voice low so that only she could hear him, but he might as well have shouted at her, so powerful was his statement.

  "Let's not argue," she said. "Not here. Not now."

  She could sense the frustration, the barely controlled anger within him. The evidence showed on his face, in the tight­ening of his muscles and in the agitation in his cold green eyes. She held her breath and waited, then began to breathe again when he released his tenacious hold on her.

  Across the room, standing by an older, rather attractive man she thought she recognized but couldn't quite place, was Eileen Harper. Eileen Wendell Harper, the wealthy heiress whose family had been New England bankers for the past two centuries. Eileen was tall, elegantly slender and youth­fully vibrant for a woman of sixty who had survived breast cancer this past year. Caroline had always envied Brooke because she and her mother shared such a loving relationship.

  As Caroline led Wolfe closer to her objective, she felt an odd reluctance in him, a strange tension that made her won­der what was going on inside that mysterious mind of his. Eileen saw Caroline and smiled. The white-haired man stand­ing next to her paused in their conversation to seek out the person who had captured his hostess's attention. When she approached, Eileen reached out, grasped Caroline's hand and pulled her closer.

  After planting a light kiss on Caroline's cheek, Eileen said, "Dear girl, how simply delightful to see you." Eileen then glanced at Wolfe. "This must be your. . .er. . .Mr. Wolfe of whom Brooke has spoken."

  Wolfe nodded but didn't reply verbally. Caroline noticed that Wolfe glanced from Eileen to the man at her side.

  "Yes, this is Wolfe," Caroline finally said when it became apparent that Wolfe had no intention of saying anything.

  Eileen slipped her arm through the arm of the tall, well-built man beside her. "Caroline, do you remember Ellison Penn? He's the president of Peacekeepers International, and knew your stepfather quite well. El was at Harvard when Oliver was there and we've known him for years."

  The man whom Eileen referred to quite intimately as El greeted Caroline with a placid smile and a firm handshake. "Hello, Caroline. I don't think you and I have seen each other since Preston's funeral. You've grown up to be a lovely young lady, and from what I understand quite a successful photographer."

  When she shook Ellison Penn's hand, she smiled warmly and wondered why her stepfather's former superior at Peace­keepers would even remember her, let alone know any details about her life. She certainly didn't remember him from the funeral. Of course, she had been sedated that day.

  "Hello, Mr. Penn," Caroline said. "It's nice to see you again after all these years." She turned to Wolfe. "May I introduce my friend, Mr. Wolfe."

  The two men stared at each other for only a couple of seconds, but in that brief glance, Caroline noticed an odd expression on Wolfe's face. The two men shook hands and mumbled hellos.

  "Here comes Oliver," Eileen said. "He will be so pleased that you've come to our little party. He was afraid you'd hide away there in St. Michaels, after those two perfectly horrible incidents." Eileen clasped Caroline's hand again. "My dear, I do wish you'd give up this quest to find whatever it is that key of Preston's unlocks. It seems to me that all that nasty business should be left in the past. Dead and buried with poor Preston. If I were you, I'd throw that key in the trash."

  Oliver Harper slid his arm around his wife's waist and bestowed a wide, gregarious smile on Caroline and her com­panion. She had always liked Oliver, even as a child. He had, in many ways, reminded her of Preston. Soft-spoken, gentle­manly and devoted to his family. She recalled several times when Brooke's father had treated them with an afternoon trip to the zoo or to a museum or even to a matinee at the theater. Besides being quite wealthy and extremely powerful, he was a handsome man, with graying brown hair and warm chestnut eyes.

  "What's this about Preston's key?" Oliver asked. "Any new developments?"

  Caroline glanced meaningfully at Ellison Penn, wondering just how much the Harpers had told him about the key she had found in Preston's hidden safe. Was it possible that Pres­ton had discovered damaging information about his former boss or about the Peacekeepers organization and Mr. Penn was the person behind the attempts on her life? He certainly didn't look like a criminal. But maybe Wolfe was right. Maybe she did trust too easily.

  "Oh, Caroline, you look simply mortified, my dear," Ei­leen said. "You mustn't be concerned because El knows about the key. He's totally trustworthy. And because of his former association with Preston, he's quite concerned about your welfare."

  "Ms. McGuire, I want to assure you that Peacekeepers International is as interested as you are in finding out just what sort of information Preston might have kept hidden," Ellison said. "And if there is anything that our organization can do to help you—"

  "As a matter of fact, there is," Wolfe said. A collective silence followed his unexpected statement. "I'd like to take a look at Preston Shaw's files. Would that be possible?" Wolfe didn't give a damn about Preston Shaw's files. He and Ellison had gone over those files with a fine-tooth comb fif­teen years ago. What he wanted—what he badly needed— was some sort of cover so that he could meet with Ellison now and perhaps again in the future without anyone being overly suspicious. The unimportant files were the best excuse he could think of.

  "Well. . .er. . . Yes, I'm sure that could be arranged." El­lison looked straight at Caroline when he replied. "I can assure you, however, that there isn't anything in those files that might prove useful to you."

  "What about tomorrow morning?" Wolfe asked. He needed this meeting with Ellison as soon as possible. His gut instinct was telling him that there was something Ellison hadn't told him about Preston Shaw, something that he needed to know. "I can be at your office by nine."

  "The young man seems quite anxious." Oliver Harper's gaze rested directly on Wolfe.

  "The sooner we discover what Ms. McGuire's key un­locks and reveal that information, the sooner she will be out of danger," Wolfe said.

  "I agree." Ellison Penn nodded. "Although I doubt Pres­ton's files will help you, I will make them available to you tomorrow." He lifted Eileen's hand and kissed it, then nod­ded to Oliver before turning his at
tention briefly back to Wolfe. "My personal assistant is here tonight. I'll find him now and arrange for him to bring Preston's files out of stor­age first thing in the morning and have anything that's been transferred to our computer system put on a disk for you."

  "My goodness, Ellison, you're being very trusting, aren't you?" Eileen asked. "After all, what do you know about Mr. Wolfe, other than he's a reliable bodyguard?''

  "I know a great deal about Mr. Wolfe," Ellison said, mak­ing quick yet consequential eye contact with Wolfe. "After all, I did have a thorough check done on him as a favor to your husband."

  "You did?" Eileen tilted her regal head and stared at Oliver.

  Oliver cleared his throat, then smiled at his wife. "I thought it best to find out all we could about the man guard­ing Caroline. And I must say I was quite impressed with his resume. Let me see if I can summarize in just a few succinct sentences. David Wolfe, thirty-six years old. No living rela­tives. Never married. No children. Dundee agent for less than two years. Before that a CIA agent who lived and worked in Europe, Asia and the Middle East for most of his career." Oliver looked boldly at Wolfe. "You have an exemplary rec­ord, Mr. Wolfe. You're almost too good to be true. But El­lison assured me that he dug quite deep and came up with nothing but the most impressive facts about you."

  Caroline withdrew from Wolfe, just enough to put a foot of space between her body and his. She looked at him, but he avoided making eye contact with her. She had found his profession as a bodyguard upsetting, knowing it was fraught with violence. But now she had just learned that his former profession had involved violence on a grand scale and at an international level. There was no telling what he had been required to do as an agent for the CIA.

  "Well, it's good to know that our dear Caroline is in such capable hands," Eileen said. "Now, let's put all this aside for the time being and see if we can't have an enjoyable evening."

  Caroline stood rigidly, her spine stiff, her chin lifted. Her heartbeat drummed in her ears. She forced a smile and waited until Eileen and Oliver moved on to other guests and Mr. Penn had gone in search of his assistant. She had one ques­tion to ask Wolfe about a matter far more personal than any­thing to do with his former profession.

  Caroline confronted him. "Why didn't you tell me that your name is David?"

  Chapter 12

  Wolfe's gut tightened painfully. Hell, why hadn't he told her his name was David? By not telling her, he'd made con­cealing it a big deal and given her reason to be suspicious. What if she asked him if he were her David, her mysterious benefactor? Don't be ridiculous, he told himself. Why should she think he was that David? She had no reason to connect him with the man who had watched over her and provided for her after Preston Shaw's death. His guilty conscience had made that giant leap, but Caroline's mind wouldn't.

  "No one calls me David," he replied. "My clients, my associates and my acquaintances call me Wolfe."

  "I understand," she said. "But that still doesn't explain why you purposefully neglected to mention that your given name is David."

  "It wasn't purposeful," he told her, then when he saw the skepticism in her eyes, he amended his statement. "At least not at first. Then when you told me about your benefactor and what he meant to you and . . .things happened between us. . ." He lowered his voice to a mere whisper. "I didn't want you getting me and this other David mixed up in your mind and reacting to me because of the way you felt about him.''

  Caroline didn't say anything, she simply stared at him for several minutes, as if judging the sincerity of his words. Fi­nally she slipped her arm through his and said, "I've changed my mind. I think I'd like to stay a while longer and maybe eat a bite. Why don't we take a look at the buffet? I'm sure we'll both find something we like. Eileen uses only the best caterers and always has a marvelous variety."

  Was that it? he wondered. Had Caroline finished interro­gating him? Had his explanation actually satisfied her? If so, he was thankful. But a niggling little doubt chipped away inside his head and that bothered him. She had definitely let the matter drop too easily. So that meant something else was going on in Caroline's mind. But what?

  Two hours later, without any more incidents with drunken Lotharios and no other personal revelations, Wolfe escorted Caroline back to the waiting Mercedes. He'd never been so glad to leave a party in his life. Jack Parker, who had been, as he always was, a big hit with everyone—especially the ladies—said his good-nights and followed them outside, without anyone being aware of the fact that he was the rear guard. Jack was smooth. The best of the best. After the three of them were safely ensconced in the car, Matt exited the circular drive. Within no time they were traveling on the Interstate 495 loop that circled D.C. and the oudying cities, heading toward the Annapolis exit.

  After what seemed like an endless silence. Jack, who sat in the front seat with Matt, turned around and smiled. "That turned out to be fairly harmless, didn't it? Other than Wolfe capturing the kissing bandit, everything went off without a hitch."

  "The kissing bandit?" Matt asked. "Some drunk took an instant liking to Miss Caroline and thought he'd steal a kiss," Jack explained.

  "So that was the guy I saw you escorting outside." Matt chuckled. "I'm surprised Wolfe didn't shoot him. You did know that our Wolfe is an expert marksman, didn't you, Ms. McGuire?"

  "Yes," Caroline said quietly. "I believe Fletch mentioned that being an expert with guns was one of Mr. Wolfe's cre­dentials."

  "We were lucky," Wolfe said, deliberately changing the subject. "Things could just as easily have gone the other way."

  "I'm glad Matt and I were both free to come in and help you tonight," Jack said. "It just so happened that we'd both come off our last assignments when you called Ellen and asked for a couple of agents. Sure am happy I got to meet you, Miss Caroline. As a matter of fact, if you get tired of having a bodyguard as solemn and serious as Wolfe, then I'd be more than happy to—"

  "Cut the crap, Parker," Wolfe said brusquely.

  Jack rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue, his expression saying, Uh-oh, what's up with him?

  Matt cleared his throat and glanced in the interior rearview mirror to steal a quick glimpse of the back seat's occupants.

  Caroline giggled. "You'll have to excuse him. I've found that your David Wolfe is rather proprietary about me. Is he that way about all his clients?"

  "David?" Matt glanced in the rearview mirror again, and when he made eye contact with Wolfe, he returned his focus to the road, pronto.

  "Yeah, Matt, didn't you know that Wolfe actually has a given name?" Jack chuckled. "And Miss Caroline, I think Wolfe. . .can be forgiven for being proprietary where you're concerned. It'd be hard for a man not to be."

  "Dammit, Parker, I thought I told you to—"

  "So, Jack, what time is our flight out in the morning?" Matt asked.

  "Nine-thirty," Jack said.

  "I'll need y'all to cancel and take a later flight, possibly even stay over another day," Wolfe said. "I have a nine o'clock appointment in the morning with the president of Peacekeepers International. He's given me permission to go through all of Preston Shaw's old files to see if I can come up with any information that might help us."

  "How did you manage that?" Matt asked. "I'd have thought those files were confidential."

  "Boy, don't you know by now that the Dundee agency has a way of getting a look at whatever files they need to see?" Jack said. "It seems Sam Dundee's got connections with every government agency in the U.S., as well as organ­izations like the Peacekeepers."

  "Wolfe didn't go through the Dundee agency," Caroline said. "He met Mr. Penn tonight and simply asked to see the files."

  Jack and Matt said "Hmmm-mmm" simultaneously.

  "While I'm in D.C. tomorrow morning, I want you two to stay at Caroline's studio with her," Wolfe said. "And you might as well wait until day after tomorrow to leave."

  "Sure thing," Jack replied. ' 'When you drop us off at the motel tonight, I'll cancel our morni
ng flight to Atlanta and book us for something day after tomorrow. That is if you're sure you won't need us to hang around longer than that, just in case Miss Caroline wants to attend another fancy shindig."

  "Your services won't be needed after tomorrow." Wolfe's voice lowered to a feral growl.

  Gavin Robbins left Roz with the pudgy, bug-eyed federal judge who seemed smitten with her, despite the fact that Roz was young enough to be his granddaughter. But Roz didn't seem to mind. The silly woman was dazzled by all the im­portant people she'd met here tonight. She'd probably be so grateful later that she would invite him to spend the night with her. Why else would he bother with a no-class, air-headed bimbo like Roz Turner, except for the sex? What he needed for a lifetime mate was a class act like Brooke Harper, a woman with brains and looks who was the heiress to a fortune. Unfortunately Fletcher Shaw had beat him to the punch there, but since his promotion at Peacekeepers, he'd been receiving more and more invitations to all the right par­ties. It was only a matter of time until he snagged himself a rich wife. He'd thought Caroline McGuire might be Ms ticket to respectability and the power he longed for, but they had been all wrong for each other. That ice queen needed to find herself a man like her cousin Lyle, somebody as harmless as a fly. Caroline wouldn't know what to do with a real man if she fell over one in the dark.

  While the judge kept Roz entertained, Gavin decided to take the opportunity to say hello to Ms host and hostess, something he didn't want to do with Roz on Ms arm. He spotted Oliver Harper in the adjoining room, talking and laughing with General Bishop and Senator Howard.